


it remains untold

by mornen



Series: I see a darkness in you [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Children, Family, Gen, Magic, Rivendell | Imladris, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/pseuds/mornen
Summary: Elladan falls into his first vision*Elrohir runs like there is a hell behind him. He skids to a stop so sudden that his feet throw up sparks on the stones.‘It’s Elladan,’ he says, and Elrond and Celebrían fly after him into the summer night, deep into the forest.They find Elladan on the orange pine needles that cover the ground. His eyes are open, wide and staring, but he doesn’t see.‘What’s wrong with him?’ Elrohir asks. ‘He won’t wake up.’Elrond kneels and passes his hand over Elladan’s face.‘He’s in a vision.’ Elrond slips off the silk scarf around his shoulders and wraps it over Elladan’s face, so the world won’t disturb his mind. He lifts him into his arms. ‘He will wake later.’
Series: I see a darkness in you [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025992
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	it remains untold

Elrohir runs like there is a hell behind him. He skids to a stop so sudden that his feet throw up sparks on the stones.

‘It’s Elladan,’ he says, and Elrond and Celebrían fly after him into the summer night, deep into the forest.

They find Elladan on the orange pine needles that cover the ground. His eyes are open, wide and staring, but he doesn’t see.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Elrohir asks. ‘He won’t wake up.’

Elrond kneels and passes his hand over Elladan’s face.

‘He’s in a vision.’ Elrond slips off the silk scarf around his shoulders and wraps it over Elladan’s face, so the world won’t disturb his mind. He lifts him into his arms. ‘He will wake later.’

Elladan is sixteen years old and four feet nine inches tall and he weighs nothing _(nothing)_ in Elrond’s arms.

‘He is fine,’ Celebrían says and she lifts Elrohir into her arms to comfort him.

‘He just fell down,’ Elrohir says. ‘I cannot reach his mind.’

Celebrían kisses him firmly.

‘He is fine. He is fine.’

The pine trees sway in the wind. The stars creep into the sky. White clouds billow over the horizon, through the trees. The Bruinen sings.

Elrond carries Elladan down the sandy path. He looks to Celebrían. She isn’t surprised either. She gets them too.

_(Don’t get a vision on a cliff’s edge. Don’t get a vision on the sea. Don’t get a vision in the wilding woods. Or you’ll never come back to me.)_

Elrond places Elladan down on his bed, scarf still wrapped about his face. Elladan does not move. His chest barely rises with each breath. Celebrían sets Elrohir down near him. Elrohir takes Elladan’s hand.

‘When will he wake?’

‘I cannot say,’ Celebrían answers.

And so they sit with him until the room is dark. So they sit while the moon rises, while the moon sets, while the room grows grey with morning, while the sun rises.

Elladan does not wake.

Elrohir falls asleep in the morning, body wrapped around his brother like a blanket, face pressed to the scarf that hides Elladan’s face.

Elrond takes Celebrían’s hand. Her face is grave.

Long ago Elros fell into a vision that lasted two weeks. Elrond sat beside him the whole while, holding his hand, sleeping uneasily. Waking and willing Elros to wake.

And when he woke – when his eyes opened again – there was something old inside of them that did not fit his young face.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he said.

And every dream Elrond had had of them facing the world together for however many thousands of years it might be, evaporated. That was long ago.

(It could happen again.)

‘Ella,’ Celebrían whispers. ‘Please wake up.’

Elladan stirs, and she unwraps his face. The black silk falls to the floor. Elladan touches her face.

‘Emmë,’ Elladan says. ‘I was in… I don’t know where I was. It was a long time ago. I think Galadriel was there.’

Elrohir weeps softly and his breath shudders against Elladan’s shoulder.

‘It was so cold,’ Elladan said. ‘Cold, and I could have died in it.’

Elrohir wraps his arms around Elladan like he can take away the memory of the cold with his warm body.

‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘Don’t leave me.’

Elladan touches Elrohir’s cheek. His fingers slip over his nose and mouth and rest on his chin.

‘Was I gone a long time? Did you miss me terribly?’

Elrohir nods. His lips tremble.

‘I feel sad,’ Elladan says. ‘Sad like something will break inside of me. I don’t know what it is or how much it will hurt yet.’

Celebrían kisses him. Her hair falls around him. He takes a handful of it.

‘Don’t be sad yet,’ she says. ‘You’re so young still.’

Her dress is dark blue, and it spills over the silver blanket. She draws both her sons into her arms. She looks like the heavens, if the heavens were kind.

‘Don’t be sad yet,’ she says.

‘Don’t leave me,’ Elrohir whispers. ‘Don’t.’

‘He won’t,’ Elrond says. ‘He can’t. Not while I remain in Middle-earth.’ He wants to move to them, but he can’t move his feet. He is standing on the floor and the black scarf is at his feet, and he can’t move. He can’t pick it up. He can’t open the window. He can’t brush his hair back where it falls over his face. He can’t even lift a finger.

Elladan stares up at him, stars trembling in his grey eyes.

At least Elrond has that. He begged, he wept, he tore at his hair beneath the stars, and his wish was granted. They will not die while he remains.

‘Give me this much at least. Give me them.’

So he has them.

(Please be true. Please be true.)

‘I see Eärendil,’ Elrohir says. Elladan looks out the window. The Morning Star is bright in the honey gold of the horizon.

Elladan lifts his hand. He kisses his fingertips and holds them to the window.

Elrond should open it. He still cannot move.

He wanted to die. Eärendil wanted to die. He told Elrond, hanging in a ship in the air, far above Middle-earth, with the winds gentle in the sails, the soft clang of the ropes a background song.

But not without her.

Elwing, who Elrond did not see again. She was not a fighter. She did not come back to the lands she fled.

How he loved her. He would throw aside his kinship with men, throw aside his own fears of the long centuries that would stretch before him, all for the love of her. That was his choice.

‘It’s your choice,’ Eärendil said as the night stretched out longer than it should have. ‘Not mine. You have to make it.’

Elrond leaned against the mast. He tried not to cry. (It didn’t work.)

‘I want to touch it,’ Elros said.

They knew what he meant.

Eärendil was taller than them both. He bent his head, and Elros touched the Silmaril. It did not burn him. (Did not burn Elrond.)

‘I wasn’t meant to be holy,’ Eärendil said. He stood by the wheel of the ship, and he was covered in stardust. He was covered in diamonds, his scars hidden beneath glimmering dust. Every line that marked his skin was painted with gold. The Silmaril illuminated it all, set him shining. If you saw him from a distance, you wouldn’t realise how much he’d been hurt.

(Everyone sees him from a distance.)

‘I wasn’t meant to be holy,’ he said again. ‘In a better world, I wouldn’t leave you.’

But that was long ago. Who can say what was real?

‘I saw him,’ Elladan says. ‘Eärendil: I saw him in my dream. I think he was happy.’

‘I’m glad,’ Celebrían says. She cradles Elladan’s head in her hands. A flush of life comes back to his cheeks.

‘I think he loves me.’

‘Of course he loves you.’

Elrond tries to move. Why can’t he move? The sunlight is too white on the night table. It cuts a line across the dark wood. He stares at it for too long. It isn’t that mesmerising he tells himself. He can’t look away.

‘You both need to sleep,’ Celebrían tells their children. ‘Come on, get in bed.’

The boys get undressed and get under the blankets with leaves caught up in their tangled hair. Celebrían tucks them in and sings a low lullaby as steady as the river. Elrohir rests his chin on Elladan’s shoulder. He falls asleep first, his grip on Elladan loosening as he drifts off. Elladan lies awake a bit longer, staring at Elrond with grey, haunted eyes. Elrond would smile at him, but he cannot move.

Celebrían sits a long time after Elladan has fallen asleep. Her hand trembles on his arm.

‘I’m tired,’ is all she says.


End file.
